


Cold Beginnings

by therachan



Series: The Evolution of an Affair [3]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therachan/pseuds/therachan
Summary: The start of the affair, according to me (lol).
Relationships: Tom Barnaby/Gavin Troy
Series: The Evolution of an Affair [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927774
Comments: 15
Kudos: 11
Collections: Midsomer_Melee





	Cold Beginnings

It was a damp, cold day. Of the kind almost always associated with a typical English winter- cloudy and gray, with a constant clamminess to the air that bespoke the intermittent bouts of mist and rain. It certainly wasn’t Tom Barnaby’s favorite time of the year, except for those perks that necessarily came with it- hot toddys and cider, warm clothes, and the constant scent of burning fireplaces that evoked, even at his age, the vague memory of childhood joy because they signaled forthcoming holiday cheer. 

But he wasn’t feeling very cheerful at the moment. Troy had already banked the car once trying to get across the sodden abandoned airfield to their crime scene. Thankfully he’d been able to rock them out of it, having had lots of practice at this point, and was having another go along the fence line. Tom could feel the frustration emanating from him through the cab of the car as they bounced and troughed, carefully working to navigate the sliding mud beneath the tires. He could also tell by Troy’s jerky, almost violent machinations at the wheel that he’d just about run out of patience with his own driving, a considerable point to have reached. 

Tom had briefly considered telling him to turn it around. After all, this was a follow-up trip out to the deserted place, after the initial visit a week ago when the body had been found. It hadn’t been so rainy then, and they’d been able to drive the car right across. It was frustrating to be sure, but despite the weather and muck and mud, Tom needed another look. Their crime scene had of course been dismantled once the body had been removed and forensics had taken their fill, but he was sure there was still something they’d missed. 

Finally, after gaining only a few more yards, Troy stopped the car. He shifted into park and slammed his palms on the wheel. 

“I don’t think we should go any further, Sir,” he mumbled. “Else we may never jog it out.” 

Tom squinted at their destination in the distance, far across the hazy lea. At the opposite end from where they sat, a low, arched hanger rose gently in the mist. Its bleak concrete curve toned almost the same color as the sky, so that it was more discernable by the shadows underneath than its highlights in the gray. It would be a miserable walk to get there. A wretchedness added to by both their sour moods, which had certainly been egged on by the difficulty with the car, but by no means had been created by it. 

Their irritation was with each other, and had been for some time now. 

They slammed the frigid car doors and began their soppy trudge towards the old hangar. Wordlessly they picked their way through the field, hackles quietly up at each other, all the more irritating because they were unaddressed. They tried to keep to what was left of the concrete runway but much of it had sunk and been covered over with mushy sod and thick grass. As they carefully moved along, Tom’s mind once again became occupied by the new development in their relationship. 

After some thought on the matter over the last couple of weeks- once he’d realized there was a matter to begin with- he had been able to trace the moment of change. He felt fairly certain it was that day in the evidence room some weeks ago, when Troy had behaved so strangely. At the time Tom had put it out of his mind rather quickly, but in hindsight that seemed to have been the catalyst. 

They’d been searching for a stack of handwritten letters associated with one of their cases, both moving slowly and meticulously along the crowded shelves. They were quite alone among the congested racks, and had focused their efforts on the most likely area for the moment- one of the last stands, way in the back. The parcel was small and could’ve dropped anywhere, so Troy had stopped to riffle through some envelopes and paperwork in a box on the bottom shelf, idly crouched, blocking the aisle. Tom had reached above him for another box and shifted past him, brushing along his sergeant’s shoulder and back with his hips and belly. Having thought he’d found his prize Tom had leaned in further to reach, distractedly pressing into his sergeant. It had been a mindless thing, for neither had ever blinked at proximity or contact before, but Troy had suddenly shifted away so violently that he shook the whole mess of shelves. A startled Tom stepped back quickly, briefly wondering if he’d cut himself or something. Troy had gotten up quickly, steadied the shelf and mumbled an apology. He made a lame excuse and left Tom standing there watching after him, the little stack of letters in his hands. 

After that their normal, comfortable working relationship had begun to deteriorate slowly, like iron rusting. It had started with Troy shrugging off Tom’s questioning gaze and changing the subject when he’d returned to their desks. Then came minor irritations, which for them was nothing new, but they’d been harder and harder to let go. Tom knew they were feeding off each other in this as they did in most things, but he had never known that tendency to be so destructive. Troy began to be irritable and moody, so Tom would find himself becoming the same. Or vice versa. 

Buried in the day-to-day occupation of their work, it was almost indiscernible for some time. Tom had plenty to distract himself with, so he’d relegated it to the back of his mind for a while. At last though, he’d finally realized that rather than being able to pull each other out of these sorts of moods as before, they had started digging holes under each other instead. 

Then it couldn’t be ignored anymore; it was starting to affect their ability to work together. Tom saw that this was going to need his attention and reluctantly made himself turn his powers of observation on his own sergeant. It was actually fairly obvious when he really started looking, since Troy had never been good at hiding his emotions, and rarely did he even seem bothered to try. But he was trying this time. He didn’t want Tom to know, and that in itself gave him away. 

It had begun to rain again by the time they reached the hangar, causing them to jog the last few yards before gratefully stepping under cover onto solid ground once more. They took a few moments to knock the worst of the mud from their shoes before straightening and looking around, squinting into the relative dimness. The air under the arch was dank and smelled of mold, wet grass and diesel, and a fine layer of oil seemed to cover everything. Tom took out his handkerchief to be able to touch and move things around as he looked. There wasn’t much to see- a few benches crowded with debris, some work tables and tool boxes with various bits and pieces and trash. Empty barrels, some broken, some not, stood tucked against the curved wall where it met the floor. Moving slowly along the horizontal surfaces, eyes searching for something, anything they might have missed, he let his mind wander again back to Troy. 

Of course, for a while Tom had refused to acknowledge what his instincts insisted the problem was. He didn’t think it could be true. There must be some other explanation for it all besides the most obvious one, rejected at the start for its absurdity. But… Tom couldn’t mistake the caught glances and furtive looks. He felt that lingering gaze. Then there was Troy’s sudden rejection of his casual touch or sometimes even direct eye contact. He was sure, positive in fact, that Gavin Troy was nursing a crush, for lack of a better word. 

The outlandishness of it all made Tom shake his head. He wanted to think he had it all wrong. Except he knew he didn’t. He knew Gavin Troy very well, had seen those looks many times before on him over their years together, they were unmistakable. And Tom knew the human condition even better, and truly believed that sometimes this sort of thing could just evolve without any endeavoring on one’s part. 

Once he’d finally believed it, Tom had known he must talk to Troy about it in an effort to save their working relationship. But he’d hesitated. Given what he knew of his sergeant and his prejudices, it would be a delicate matter indeed, and he didn’t get the idea that any reference or question of it would yield any kind of useful resolution. So he’d allowed it to go on this long for lack of a better idea of what to do. 

But there was one thing he did know. At some point this would have to come to some kind of fruition, for better or worse. They couldn’t continue on like this, or they’d be risking a permanent break. And to him, likely to Troy too, that would be worse than anything. 

Tom checked on his sergeant from the corner of his eye. Troy was mirroring him on the opposite side of the building, seeming intent on his task and unaware that he was being watched. His face was serious, concentrating as he went along. Above them the rain began to really pour down, making for a loud white-noise backdrop to their separate thoughts. 

Even with few hopes of resolution by bringing it up, it did bring some interesting thoughts to the forefront of Tom’s mind, when he allowed himself some indulgent thinking. It wasn’t unheard of for a straight man to suddenly find himself attracted to the same sex. Tom himself had sown some wild oats in his younger days and there wasn’t one of their acquaintance who would have guessed it, not even those who knew him best. Before now he himself hadn’t even thought about it for many years. Except once, on the day he’d met a handsome and very young, rather green Sergeant Troy. Then it had bubbled up gently, the attraction settling on him like a light mist of memory. To do anything about it was never seriously entertained, but Tom had liked the feeling. He’d missed it. 

However, Troy was demonstrably as straight as they came, and Tom had forgotten that little provocation almost immediately. Until now. 

Finding nothing that satisfied his questions about the case, Tom pulled an old canvas open and spread it over the table nearest to him. Satisfied he wouldn’t get oil on his suit, he leaned against it and watched his sergeant. Troy was such a handsome young man, enviously tall and hale. Committed to his work, he had drive and passion, could be vexatiously shrewd and hot-headed, but also kind and empathetic. He was a smart and amiable lad, and yet he’d had a string of relationships that never seemed to go anywhere. Perhaps this was the reason why. This predisposition that had been hiding in the wings and only now, for whatever reason, had made itself known. 

So now Tom considered it. If it were true, if it were really true that his sergeant was battling… an attraction, what _was_ he supposed to do about it? On top of that, what was Troy playing at, apparently looking to a man so much older? Surely if he were going to venture in this direction, why not some other young, virile lad like himself? After all, he had plenty of friends like that to choose from. But Tom hadn’t seen those looks directed at anyone else lately. And it seemed only his relationship with Troy had changed; his sergeant appeared to get along with their other colleagues just as he always had. 

He watched Troy shake his head, coming to the end of what there was to search on his side. Putting his hands on his hips and turning around with a sigh, he startled a bit to see Tom posted up, watching him. He must have been miles away. 

He cleared his throat. “Anything, Sir?” He’d had to raise his voice to make himself heard over the din of the rain. 

Tom shook his head. “A trip for nothing,” he said. “And now I’m afraid we’re stuck here.” He gestured outside. 

Troy looked out the open end of the hangar as well, squinting against the light. They couldn’t even see the car from here. In fact, all the background beyond a few meters of the opening had faded into almost solid gray. He cast about for a suitable place to sit but there really was none that wouldn’t ruin his suit. He kicked a bottle across the floor and muttered a curse. 

“Troy.” Tom beckoned him, moving over on the canvas-covered table he leant back against. It would be a squeeze for them both to be comfortable, but he was certainly willing to share. He watched his sergeant hesitate for a moment, then give up in the face of what could be an interminably long wait. He settled next to Tom, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, leaning back against the table, arms crossed to save some space. All around them the rain echoed on the concrete arch. 

“Troy,” Tom said again after a few moments of silence between them. 

“Sir?” came the answer. 

“There seems to be something troubling you.” 

He immediately felt the body next to him tense and sensed Troy’s inclination to get up and move away. But to his credit, he didn’t. 

“What makes you say that, Sir?” Troy said. The words sounded innocent enough, but his tone was wary. He knew very well what kind of detective his DCI was, and that there was very little, if anything, he’d be able to keep from him for long. 

“Oh, all kinds of things,” Tom said idly. “You’re not yourself lately, and it’s beginning to have an effect on me.” 

Troy looked at him. “You?” 

“Hmm.” Tom was looking out at the rain. “We’re partners, Troy, are we not?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Then you’ll know our relationship is built on trust. We are in this together.” 

Troy looked at him again. He swallowed, and it took a moment for him to say, “I don’t follow,” as if he really meant it. 

Without much of a plan, for Tom usually relied on his honed instincts for empathy and compassion when approaching sensitive subjects, his only real goal was to make things a bit easier on his sergeant. With words not being one of Troy’s strong suits, Tom figured he might say it for him and get it out in the open. Then he could tell Troy that he was in full support of whatever proclivities he felt were right for himself. He could let him down gently after that, if needed. 

“Look,” Tom said, leaning in a bit and lowering his voice as much as he could. “I do _know_ what’s bothering you. You don’t have to explain it to me.” 

He’d been understood, he could tell by the flush that had risen in Troy’s face. For the first time in weeks those blue eyes held his. And while he gave his sergeant a few moments to digest what he’d just insinuated, Tom studied him again. That little wave of buried attraction flared up once more, and some mischievous thread of his mind entertained _not_ letting Troy down gently. It followed a completely different path, blessedly blind to the tangle of reasons why that could be a terrible idea. No. Best to break it up now. 

“Sir,” Troy said, dropping his eyes away. His shoulders, which had seemed to hold tension for so long had dropped some too. “I wish I _could_ explain it-“ 

“You don’t need to-“ 

“But I want to!” Troy growled. “It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Troy, I understand. I have been there.” 

This earned him another look- a questioning one this time, the frustration forgotten. "You..?" 

Tom tilted his head, stopping short of a nod, and looked out into the gloom again. “Sometimes these things are irresistible," he said, almost privately. "You’re fighting your own nature to go against it, do you see?” 

Troy nodded, his eyes never wavering from Tom’s face. “Do you fight it too, Sir?” His voice was quieter now, barely heard over the rain. 

“I’ve accepted it,” Tom said, turning to give Troy what he’d meant to be a supportive smile. But he got caught in that intense blue gaze and his smile faded a little, turning to something else. The naughty little thread in his mind strummed a warning. “What I really mean to say, Troy,” he continued slowly, trying to keep his train of thought, keep the words coming. “Is that you can trust me. I’m all right with it. Really I am. And you should be too-” 

Troy’s hand reached out and pulled his arm, the little gap between them closed quickly, and suddenly their lips had touched. 

For a few short seconds Tom was frozen. It was a lack of response long enough for Troy to suddenly rethink his impulsiveness, to doubt what he'd thought Tom had been trying to say, and realize he might have misunderstood everything. He backed away quickly, hand coming to his mouth, eyes wide in horror at what he’d done. 

“Sir-“ he managed to get out. “Oh, Sir, that’s not what you meant, is it? God, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I-“ he trailed off, too angry and embarrassed to even put out more apologies. He covered his face and turned away with a curse. 

Meanwhile Tom sat there, staring forward, seeing nothing. He still felt the light kiss. He had thought that part of his life over and done with. But now he realized that even before this, that desire had been slowly reviving at the thought, the mere idea of Troy’s changing inclination this way. All it had taken then was one damn little kiss. One little kiss to open a door that had kept out the wilderness, shutting down his analytical mind just long enough to get its roots in. Suddenly, in those few seconds, a life he might have lived moved in on a life he already had. His wife and family. His home and his job. It was all going to take some serious and painful thought. 

Troy had started apologizing again. He looked in agony, surely already thinking he would have to start looking for another job, if he hadn't ruined his career entirely. 

“Troy,” Tom said, able to say it more quietly now that the rain was letting up. 

His sergeant stopped pacing and dragged his eyes back to Tom, looking shattered, waiting for the anger or rebuff to come. With an oddly quieted mind, Tom stood up and walked to him. He reached out and put his hand on the back of Troy’s neck and pulled him down, evening out the height difference easily. He pressed their lips together, opening up slowly, letting Troy follow, if he was going to follow. 

He did. The kiss deepened and his hands came up and gripped Tom’s arms, not quite an embrace, but pulled him closer nonetheless. It was a rather sweet kiss really, a little awkward in the way first kisses can be, full of shyness combating the craving to go even deeper. In a moment, they separated again and broke into rather embarrassed grins. When Troy leaned in again Tom raised his head, this time their arms coming up and around each other to pull in close, pressing their bodies together. It was different, so very different than what they’d both become used to. The kiss’s shyness was ebbing with the seconds. It was already maturing into the kind of kiss that could be extremely hard to break off. 

It was some minutes before they stepped back again. Troy heaved a tense sigh and they both shared another nervous laugh. To cut the tension they looked towards the opening to see that the rain had finally stopped. In the distance their black car stood out in the field where they’d left it, accessible again. 

“We really should get back,” Tom said, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid we’ll ruin our clothes if we linger here.” 

“Right,” Troy answered softly, flushing again. Then, “Sir?” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m sorry. For the way I’ve been behaving.” 

Tom shook his head and gave him a light smile. “It’s a hell of a change for you, Troy. You don’t have to apologize. But I trust you’re going to be a little more agreeable now?” 

A grin. “Yes, Sir. Sorry.” He looked out at the car. “So what do we do now?” 

Tom sighed and dropped his hands from where they’d been resting on Troy’s hips, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “We don’t do anything,” he answered. “We sweep it under the rug and ignore it because of a thousand different reasons. And then when the pressure becomes too much, we necessarily go our separate ways.” From the corner of his eye he watched the words sink in and Troy dropped his head. This was one of their possible realities. He felt he'd had to say it out loud. 

“As if nothing happened?” Troy sounded crestfallen. 

Tom relented and put his arm over his shoulders. “Well, that’s what we _should_ do anyway. But I find that road rather… unsatisfactory, don’t you?” 

Troy’s head came up, and after studying Tom’ face, his mouth spread in a slow grin. He leaned down for another kiss. Eventually Tom broke it off though, not unkindly, but with decision. If they didn’t get out of here he wasn’t sure they’d make it back at all, and this certainly wasn’t the place to explore this any further. There would be better opportunities, better settings. 

“Come on, Troy.” He gently pulled his reluctant sergeant to step out into the wet grass and make their way back to the car. The chilly air had cleared some, and while the rain had done nothing to help the muddy walk, it seemed much less miserable this time. 

“So really, Sir, what do we do?” His sergeant’s voice sounded a little relieved, lighter than it had in days. In it, Tom heard that at last it wasn’t just his problem to lug about anymore; now he had Tom to help carry the weight. He took a deep breath. He was just happy to have Troy back. The cost of it all would come later. 

“We get back to the car, and try to get on with our day,” Tom said. 

“And then?” 

“We do what we always do, Troy. We figure it out as we go along.”

**Author's Note:**

> This one came out of a brief mention in a previous work with these two. I couldn't help exploring how that day went, thought it might make a good prologue to the other stories I did. Thanks for reading!!


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